


Freaky Tuesday

by cate-lynne (catelynne)



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:24:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4350440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catelynne/pseuds/cate-lynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean switch bodies</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freaky Tuesday

Dean groaned as he started to wake up.  He furrowed his brow, unwilling to open his eyes.  Something was wrong.  Something was…different.  Making a silent assessment, Dean ascertained that there was no one else in the room and there was no imminent danger.  Slowly, he opened his eyes.  This was not his room.  How did he get in Sam’s room?  Man, he must have been really drunk after that last hunt.  He stood up and swayed.  The ground seemed so far down. Was that normal?  He had never really noticed before.  Taking a step, he winced at his sore muscles.  What, exactly, had he done last night?  Honestly, it was all a little blurry.

He stepped closer to the mirror that hung above the dresser to assess the damage.  Looking at the face that stared back at him, he blinked several times.  Then he let out a (very manly) scream and promptly collapsed.

“Dean?  Dean!”  He heard his own voice shouting from his bedroom.  “Dean!”

Dizzily, he turned his head and watched from his place on the floor as his own body _without him in it_ came stumbling into the room.  There was a confused look on his body’s face, which he assumed Sam was in since Dean was in Sam’s, that didn’t look quite right.  It was a very Sam look.  It did not belong on his face. Sam jerked to a stop, staring at Dean on the floor.

“What the hell…?” he muttered before needing to lean back against the doorframe to slide to a sitting position.

“Dude,” Dean said hoarsely, in Sam’s voice. “I think we have a problem.”

…

Once Dean had sat up and the brothers had gotten over their initial confusion, they had to deal with the shock and strangeness of being in each other’s bodies.

“The ground is too close,” Sam complained.

“Oh my God, there’s so much hair-” Dean griped.

“You’re arms are too short-”

“Excuse me, Sasquatch?  I can’t even walk through a doorway without hitting my head!”

“I can’t feel my hair…”

“You’re not supposed to be able to!”

“Oh my God.  How did this happen?” Sam groaned.  He glanced at Dean but blanched and had to look away quickly.

“You are pretty ugly,” Dean agreed.

Sam snorted and shook his, _Dean’s_ , head.  “It’s just too weird.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, thinking.  Finally, Dean spoke up.

“How _did_ this happen?”

“I dunno,” Sam shrugged.  “Witch?”

“Nah, we haven’t seen one in a few weeks.”

“What then?”

“Don’t know.  I’m going to call Cas.”

“Good idea…” Sam trailed off, lost in thought.  Dean rolled over and got to his feet, searching his pockets and the bedside table for a phone.  It took him a minute to really focus, thrown off as he was by the sudden new height.

“Screw it,” he muttered, finding no phone. “Castiel, help.  We’re going crazy down here.  We need you, man.”

A second later, there was the sound of fluttering wings and Castiel appeared.  He stared in confusion from Sam on the floor to Dean standing up.  He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of what he was going to say and tried again.

“I’m not sure what’s going on here.”

“Neither are we,” Sam said.

“Sam?” Castiel said, squinting at Dean’s body where it sat on the floor.

“Uh, yeah.  How could you tell?”

“I can recognize your souls…” Castiel muttered absently, still staring between the two.  He was obviously just as disturbed by the switch as the boys. “How did this happen?”

“We aren’t sure.  That’s why I called you,” Dean explained.

“I see.  Well, I can figure out what did this to you…but I can’t guarantee that I can fix it.”

“We’ll take it.”

Castiel closed his eyes and pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead.  Er, Sam’s forehead.  His forehead wrinkled in concentration as Sam and Dean watched closely.  He seemed confused by what he found.  And that was not reassuring.

“This can’t be…”

“What?  What is it?”

“It’s…an angel did this.”

“What?!”

“And, if I’m reading the grace signature correctly…”

“When don’t you?”  Dean interrupted.  Sam shot him a look.

“Continue, please, Castiel.”

“If I’m right, this is Gabriel’s work.”

...

Castiel had flown off to figure out if he could fix their situation a few hours ago, leaving Sam and Dean sitting in the library, reading up on past cases similar to their own.  It seemed that every single one had been at the hands of “a Trickster of a man with a fascination with candy”, meaning Gabriel.  None of the cases had ever been solved.  Sam sighed in defeat, in sync with Dean’s groan of frustration.

“Son of a _bitch_!” Dean snapped, slamming the book he had been reading shut.  Sam winced.  He wasn’t happy either, but Cas would find a way to fix this.  There was no point in being angry about it.  He watched as Dean stood up and stalked out of the room in the direction of the kitchen, probably to go find some pie…

A sudden thought struck Sam and he leapt up from the table, scrambling after Dean.  He made it the kitchen just as Dean was about to take his first bite of gooey, sugary, cherry pie.  He lunged and knocked the fork out of Dean’s hand.

“Hey!” Dean protested, glaring up at Sam.

“You can’t eat that,” Sam panted.

“Why the hell not?”

“You’re in _my body_ , Dean.  I eat salad and healthy stuff.”

“So?” Dean asked petulantly.  He looked like a scolded toddler.

“ _So_ …my body will reject that stuff.  It’ll make me sick.”

“Wait, what?  Are you telling me I have to eat rabbit food until this mess gets sorted out?”

Sam nodded, afraid that Dean might get upset again.  To his surprise, Dean just sighed and stood to put the pie back in the fridge.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Just don’t make my body eat any of that crap, ok?”

“Okay,” Sam agreed, relieved. “I’ll respect your…preferences, if you respect mine.”

“Deal.”

…

The rest of the day passed without incident, as did that night.  Laying in his bed, Dean reflected on his day, fully appreciating just how tall Sam really was.  He had hit his head on a number of doorframes, giving himself a massive headache, before Sam just started reminding him to duck before he entered a room.  It was slightly embarrassing.  But he shrugged to himself.  And then stopped.  He hadn’t really thought about it much during the day, because every time he started to, he got this strange feeling in his throat like there was something trying to force its way out of his body, _Sam’s_ body.  He had a sneaking suspicion that it was panic, but would never admit it.  Here in the dark, in the safety of his room, he let the feeling wash over him.

He flexed his shoulders and arm, lifted his legs up and down, feeling the unfamiliar pull of muscles that were not his working under skin.  He opened and closed his fists in front of his eyes, squinting at them in the dim room.  They were bigger than his and the scars were placed differently.  It was disturbing.  He felt his breathing speeding up and closed his eyes, willing himself to be still so he wouldn’t have to feel the _wrongness_ …

Before he knew it he was gasping, little panicked noises escaping him and he was so glad he was alone…

…

On the other side of the door, Sam listened as Dean fell apart.  He had a pretty good guess what was happening: Dean had spent the day distracting himself from what was happening, but then, upon finding himself alone, had given in to the panic that he didn’t want Sam to see because he wanted to be strong for him.  It happened every single time there was something wrong with Dean.  He shut Sam out.  Always.  And it hurt more than words could say.

…

The next morning, Dean woke up covered in hair.  It was in his face, his eyes, his mouth, everywhere.

“Sam!” he yelled.  “Sam, I swear to God, I am cutting your hair today.”

And then he froze, realizing that he actually could.  He could cut Sam’s hair, and there was no way for his moose brother to stop him.

“DEAN, DON’T YOU DARE!”  Sam roared.  Dean could hear his thundering footsteps coming closer as he raced to stop him.  Laughing a little evilly, Dean lunged forward, slamming the door shut and locking it at the exact moment that Sam arrived on the other side.

“Ha!”

“Dean! Dean, don’t do it!”

Dean was already rummaging through his drawers for a pair of scissors, calling out to Sam as he searched.

“Sorry, Sammy.  This is my only chance.”

“No!”  He started pounding on the door. “Don’t!”

Dean just laughed.

“Dean! DEAN!”

Dean stood right next to the door, making sure Sam could hear, and snipped.

“No!  Stop!  Dean, I swear to God…”

“What?”  Dean cackled. “What are you going to do?”

“Open the door.  Now.”

Dean just kept cutting.  After a few minutes, he became aware of the sound of the lock being picked and smiled to himself.  He took a few steps away from the door and waited.  And then Sam burst in, looking like an enraged moose, and lunged at Dean.

...

Dean smiled, holding up his hands in a sign of surrender.  Sam looked about wildly, trying to locate the locks of hair that Dean had mutilated.  He couldn’t _believe_ he had trusted his brother not to do anything shitty.  He was always after Sam to cut his hair, of course he went for the hair.  _Sam’s hair_!

It was then that he noticed that Dean was unfolding a piece of paper with strange cuts made in it.  As soon as Dean held it up, Sam understood. With a roar, he tackled Dean to the floor, sending the paper snowflake fluttering to the floor and the scissors skittering under the table.

…

There was no way Dean was going to actually cut Sam’s hair.  He liked being alive, thank you very much.  He just wanted to mess with his little brother.  So he had started working on the piece of paper.  He was expecting relief from Sam when he revealed that his hair hadn’t been marred in any way.  He was not expecting the wild moose noise that burst out of him as he tackled Dean to the ground.  The scissors and snowflake left his hands as he collided with the solid cement.

“Hey!”  he yelled and attempted to push his brother off.  Sam just grunted and struggled to remain in control.  Indignant, Dean swatted at him and attempted to escape.  They hadn’t done anything like this since…the first time Gabriel messed with them.  Soon they were both a panting and flailing pile of limbs.

“Dean.  Sam.”  Castiel’s rough voice interrupted.  They both jumped apart, looking around sheepishly.  Castiel stood in the doorway with a very amused looking Gabriel peeking over his shoulder.  Dean and Sam stood up, casting each other a glance.  They brushed themselves off and looked at the angels.

“Aw, Cassie, you should have let them duke it out,” Gabriel whined as he unwrapped a lollipop.  Cas gave him a stern look.  Sighing, Gabriel snapped his fingers.  Suddenly Dean found himself looking up at Sam.  He frowned a little.  He had liked being the tall one.  Sam chuckled as if he were reading Dean’s mind.  Dean scowled at him for a moment before transferring his annoyance to Gabriel.

“What the hell, man!”

“What?” Gabriel laughed.

“What was the point of all that?”

“Does there need to be a point?”

“Gabriel,” warned Castiel.

“Oh, alright,” Gabriel sighed.  “I was bored.”

“You were-”

“Seriously-?”

“Gabriel, you cannot-”

“ _And_ ,” Gabriel shouted over the three angry men. “And I needed an excuse to see Sammich.”

Castiel and Dean stopped and turned to stare at Sam, who was blushing violently.  No one moved for a minute until Sam snapped.  He grabbed Gabriel’s arm and hauled him down the hallway and into his bedroom.  Dean and Cas watched them go. Dean shook his head.

“Who would guessed, Sam and Gabriel?”  But when he turned to look at Castiel, he was gone.  He sighed and headed into his room.  He heard a loud thump and hastened to put on his headphones and blast some music.  There was no way he was going to listen to angel/moose sex.

He drifted off, with the sound of classic rock in his ears and Castiel’s face in his thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> Requests? you can find me at cate-lynne.tumblr.com  
> It was deleted on accident, but I'm back now!


End file.
